


Motel Sprites

by nightmares06, PL1



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Borrower Sam, Borrowers - Freeform, G/T, Gen, Motel, Size Difference, Size Kink, Sprite, Sprites, The Borrowers - Freeform, Tiny Dean, Tiny sam, borrower dean, cursed brothers, g/t fanfiction, g/t story, g/t writing, giant tiny - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-06
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-03-27 15:40:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13883925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightmares06/pseuds/nightmares06, https://archiveofourown.org/users/PL1/pseuds/PL1
Summary: Jacob Andris thought that 'strange' ended at the sprite village he discovered in the Wellwood forest, but that's only because he hadn't stopped at theTrails Westmotel and met two of its most curious residents...





	1. Chapter 1

A worn but reliable maroon car had no opposition on the road as it sped down a flat expanse, kicking up a meager cloud of dust in its wake. Jacob Andris, a midwesterner at heart, felt at ease under the dome of an open sky, with the occasional cluster of trees throwing their shade onto the road as he passed. Oklahoma had been barely a blip on his path, and now he was on a road that felt more like home.  
  
Kansas had a familiar charm to it. After a road trip down into New Mexico to check out one of the colleges there, it felt good to roll through the more familiar terrain, with cornfields and wind turbines stretching over a flat horizon. Jacob couldn't help a sigh of relief as he put all signs of the desert behind him. Road trips were a favorite hobby of his, but this one had given him more stress than relaxation so far.  
  
It was early evening when he decided to give in to the temptation of food and some rest. The sun was still shining orange and pink near the horizon, but that wouldn’t last long before the sky became a blanket of glittering black. He'd set aside some cash before the trip for this purpose, but he was glad to see a little motel with decent rates advertised on the sign. Whatever he could save, he did. He checked in, with the clerk almost relieved to finally see some business.  
  
The place couldn't be too bad. It wasn't crawling with anything when he got to the room, and that was all he needed. He even stooped down to check under the bed, but all he found was dust bunnies.  
  
He left his bag on the tacky bedspread, with some of his road supplies already spilling out. It wasn’t a long trip, so he didn’t have as much as some folks usually brought, but then Jacob was almost always prepared for a quick weekend getaway. He spent as much time as he could up at a certain forest campground, well off the designated path for hikers. Only a few people really knew what drew him back there so often, and the ones that didn’t never thought to ask.  
  
With one last glance over his shabby but cozy room, he stepped back out to go find some takeout to bring back.  
  


* * *

  
A room away, unbeknownst to Jacob, were two people wandering in the general direction of his room.  
  
They had thus far had an unsuccessful day of gathering supplies. Sam Winchester tagged along behind his older brother, Dean Winchester.  
  
Dean's knack, while useful when they were desperate, had stayed irritatingly silent while they were out. Sam's had given them the needed warnings when the maids came in to clean the rooms, alerting them to humans that might come close to their hiding spots and serving them well in their evasive movements to stay hidden.  
  
After all, the two brothers, though they had once been human, stood under a half a foot tall. Together, they couldn't outweigh a single hand. A single night had stolen all that away from them, a witch attacking them and reducing them in height until the people they would seek for help looked at them as less than rodents if they went to them for help.  
  
They'd survived, thanks to a family at the same scale that had found them. Raised them as family, taught them survival at their heights. Sam hadn't been over three inches tall, and Dean just a bit taller. Over the years they'd adapted, and their knacks had appeared, unique abilities that kept them safe and fed.  
  
Dean could find anything he needed, but he needed to  _need_  it. They hadn't figured out exactly how to make him track down just anything, though it had saved them from starvation multiple times.  
  
Sam could sense anyone that was looking around, either for or near them. It was invaluable in staying undetected time and time again when they raided the nearby rooms.  
  
"Just one more," Dean said out loud from just ahead of Sam.  
  
Sam glanced up. Dean's voice was soft, so it didn't carry far enough to be heard outside of the walls. "You really think it'll do much good?" he asked, resigned to their empty supply bags.  
  
Dean shrugged. "I saw some kid checking in earlier. He might have some snacks we can nab. It's better than nothin', right?"  
  


* * *

  
The diner wasn't too busy, with only a few tables taken up by locals, but it took a little time to decide what he wanted. Jacob offered the hostess an easygoing smile while he checked over the menu and made his decision. He'd long since learned to keep a mellow demeanor with people, considering his height and bulk.  
  
He hadn't done as much lifting in the past year as he was used to, but he was getting back into things after an old injury had finally healed. Even without the intense regimen, he was formidable. His lax attitude, one that he'd been able to practice on the most timid of people, worked well. He placed his order and the hostess offered him a friendly smile as she went to tell the cook.  
  
Soon enough he had a bag placed in his hand, and the food boxed within was so warm he felt it through the layers of cardboard and plastic. He left and, with one more glance at the dimming horizon, hurried back to his chosen home for the night.  
  
In minutes, his car pulled up to the door of his motel room once more, with faded paint and a dull brass number nailed to the front.  
  
Jacob moved casually as he got out of the car, his bag of food hanging from one hand and his room key in the other. Soon enough, the latch of the door clicked loudly to announce his return and he stepped inside, tossing the key to the table without a second thought. The plastic bag shuffled loudly as he set it down, and then he paused.   
  
 _Should probably text mom,_  he decided, turning back towards the bed where his backpack waited.  
  


* * *

  
From hiding in the room, Dean watched the human move, on edge and at the ready to dive back into the walls they had emerged from.  
  
A thin strip of light lit up one eye where he was peering out, the only part of him that was visible as he assessed the situation. Sam kept back, one arm over his satchel and alert for any change to his knack.  
  
They were an effective team, and even with the human in the room, Dean decided not to discount the chance at getting some much-needed food for them and their family.  
  
The plastic bag, up on the table, let out an aroma that called Dean back to older days. Back when they could order their own food and eat when the meals were  _warm._ His mouth watering, he kept his eyes glued on it.  
  
"We can totally take it," Dean whispered to Sam.  
  
"Are you  _nuts?!_ "  
  
Dean waved Sam off. "All we gotta do is wait for him to be distracted. In, out, there's nothing to it. Everyone gets food and he goes on never knowing we exist."  
  
Sam sighed. "Walt will  _kill you_  one of these days."  
  
Dean flashed a charming, confident grin. "Haven't been caught yet, have I?"  
  
The tiny conversation in the room never caught Jacob’s attention as he shifted his bag around on the bed, dumping out some of his things and snagging his small phone from a side pouch. In his hands, the little thing bordered on ridiculous, and he had gotten many comments before about his thumbs being too big for the buttons. He was nearing his full height, inches over six feet, and he had the hands to match.  
  
Even so, he poked out a quick message on the phone with relative ease, used to making use of such small buttons. It helped that he had quite a bit of practice with almost  _everything_  being made for someone with smaller hands.  
  
With the text sent, he tossed it back to the bed with a single bounce, and then grabbed his supplies to move them to the bathroom sink. As he trudged across the room, hardly making note of the decor or the faded paint, he rolled his shoulder with a faint wince. It seemed like it was always stiff now, despite it being months since it had pained him. A jagged, puckered scar, hidden beneath layers of tshirt and hoodie, was  _supposed_  to be all that was left of the wound.  
  
At least he didn’t have to use a cane to hold himself up anymore. He tossed his supplies into the sink alcove, and then wandered back to the main room.  
  
His phone was already blinking to show it had a return message. When he grabbed it, he almost rolled his eyes at the simple urgency of the  **Call me?**  on the tiny screen.  
  
Wearily and hoping he wouldn’t take so long that his food cooled off, Jacob sat on the end of the bed and dialed the number to give his mother a call to let her know he was okay.  
  
While Jacob got settled, the Winchesters were on the move.  
  
Sam darted out from cover first, dashing over to the leg of the table. Though he disagreed with Dean on their timing, knowing they'd be better off waiting for this kid to step out of the room or fall asleep, there was also the possibility that the food would be put in the mini-fridge in the corner. The second it went in there, it would be out of their reach forever. They would be back to scrounging for scraps and discards.  
  
Flattening his back against the table leg, Sam chanced one look out at where Jacob was, then motioned for Dean, starting the second half of their routine.   
  
Dean ran full-speed at the table, pulling out his hook as he went. He sized up the toss and twirled the hook once, twice, three times to gain momentum before releasing it to arc up into the air.  
  
It sailed up, and even as Dean hit the leg of the table next to Sam, found its mark. He tugged twice and smirked as he handed the black thread over to Sam to climb up. He never missed his mark.  
  
Sam scrambled up the thread without missing a beat.  
  
Jacob's voice, deep and mellow, created the background noise for their risky plan. When the call connected, he couldn't help a brief smile. "Hey, mom," he greeted, knowing at least some of her concerns were immediately quelled. "Yeah, Kansas," he said in reply to something on the other line.  
  
His gaze didn't wander much from the odd, plain painting behind the TV, sparing Sam and Dean from a glance. "Uh-huh. I got some brochures and stuff that we can look at when I get back. I probably  _could_  try to make the overnight drive ..."  
  
He trailed off and the faint mumble of his mother insisting he  _not_  do that could be heard out of the little phone. Jacob chuckled and rolled his eyes. "I'm not gonna," he insisted. More mumbling from the phone. "Little place called Trails West. It's cozy. Somehow I'll survive."  
  
Sam reached the top of the table as Jacob droned on about the area he was in. Keeping the plastic bag of food between him and the human, he signaled Dean it was safe to come up.  
  
Dean started his climb, slow and steady and nothing like Sam. He had never taken to the activity like his younger brother, preferring to keep his feet on solid ground. Solid,  _low_  ground. Unfortunately, their size worked against them in many ways, and one of them was the necessity of climbing and keeping to heights out of reach when possible, resigning Dean to a life of climbing. Sending up Sam as a sentry had become a regular habit between them, giving them the smallest amount of exposure down on the ground possible.  
  
Sam sighed as he waited, looking once more around the bag to make sure that Jacob remained in the dark to their presence.  
  
For all appearances, Jacob might never look their way. He had a patient look on his face as his mother went over her plans for the next few days, and how glad she was that he was on track despite his setbacks going into his last year of high school. A year was a long time, and it gave him a chance to heal.  
  
“Yeah, mom, love you too,” he finally got to say. She seemed mollified about his stay in the Trails West motel, and let him hang up without more fuss.  
  
As his thumb mashed the  **End**  button, he turned to the side to toss the phone down next to the rest of his stuff. That food was waiting, and his eyes next went right for the table. He was so shocked by what he saw that he froze halfway to a stand.  
  
Hanging from a string, dangling at least a foot off the floor and  _climbing_  up to the table, was a tiny little figure. Jacob stared, not even noticing anyone else around, and finally straightened. “A sprite?” he blurted, more confusion than anything else in his tone.  
  
The summer before, Jacob had gone on a camping trip with some of his friends. What was supposed to be a normal outing to enjoy the outdoors away from civilization had taken a turn for the fantastical when Jacob had discovered a tiny little man in their campsite. Sporting green clothes that blended in with the forest, he couldn’t stand over four inches tall.  
  
He’d had  _wings._  Vibrant green ones that mimicked leaves as if the little guy had fallen off of a tree and into existence all at once. With bright green eyes to match, contrasting with his brown skin, Bowman Leafwing had looked every part a forest fairy. Not that he ever let anyone call him that.  
  
Jacob had gone back to that forest many times since then, learning a bit more about the wood sprites and how they lived. One thing he remembered distinctly was that sprites were not especially good climbers, so if that little figure speeding up the string as fast as his little arms would allow was a sprite, he didn’t come from Wellwood.  
  
“Holy shit.” Jacob didn’t have time for many other thoughts. He lurched forward, careful not to bump the table, and crouched down next to it. “Dude, don’t fall!” Before his worry could become a reality, Jacob’s hands darted out and cupped several inches underneath the tiny guy. That way, at least, no one had to break any bones in their rush.  
  
Sam balked from the edge of the table, taking a step away from the human. It was like seeing a mountain rise up and rush at them all at once, and it was hard to believe that  _all of that_  was just one guy.  
  
Dean was in much worse shape. Jacob's movement through the air sent the thread swinging slightly, enough to offset his balance. He clung desperately to it, all climbing halted. One foot wrapped around the climbing thread to anchor him in place while he yanked out his knife, an instinctive reaction even in midair.   
  
"I was doing  _fine_  before you!" Dean snapped angrily, holding the knife threateningly. Most of the threat was reduced by the fact that he couldn't actually  _reach_  the guy to strike unless he physically put his hand an inch within reach.   
  
"Back off!"  
  
"Dean!" Sam called out, diving to grab the hook anchored to the top of the table. With all the movement going on, all he could see was the hook slipping from where it rested in a crack in the worn wood grain.  
  
With one tiny person swinging on a thread and brandishing a knife at him and another one appearing on the table and diving towards the edge, Jacob balked. His hands remained under the one who was climbing, but only just, as he focused for a moment on the other. Tiny hands, perfect imitations of the much larger hands of a human, gripped the little fish hook so it wouldn’t lose its purchase on the edge of the table. A fish hook.  
  
“No way,” Jacob muttered, watching the little person for a moment before turning his gaze back to the other one. This guy had a glare on his face that couldn’t be mistaken no matter how small it was.  
  
The little knife glinted in the light as the man swung back and forth on his thread, and Jacob realized they didn’t look much like the sprites he knew. Aside from the climbing, they both had bags hanging on their shoulders, and their jackets looked closer to human design than wood sprite. He did a double take between them, lingering on the hook to make sure the little guy on the table wasn’t about to drop it or go tipping over the side.   
  
Finally, Jacob tilted his head to get a better look at the one who determinedly held a knife out while clinging to the thread with only one hand. That by itself took the kind of strength that most wood sprites simply didn’t have. Jacob eyed the little hand, but then noticed the texture of the jacket the little guy wore.  
  
“Is that  _leather?_ ” he asked, one hand moving up from where it hovered a few inches under the little guy. He kept it out of range of the tiny knife, like he was guarding a candle. When he thought he had an opening, he brushed a fingertip over the back of the jacket before backing off again. He didn’t want to upset his balance.  
  
Jacob was baffled and fascinated all at once. “Well, you’re not wood sprites, that’s for sure.”  
  
"What are you--" Dean didn't know what to react to first. He swung his arm defensively backwards, where he'd felt a large finger graze his jacket. "Do I  _look_  like Tinkerbell?!"  
  
The action of trying to strike at the offending hand sent his thread swinging in a new direction. Up above, Sam's grip tightened on the hook as it threatened to slip from its spot. "Dean, stop moving!" he called down in warning. If the hook fell, Dean might not get hurt, but he would definitely get a one-way trip into the human's hand. That... would end badly for one of them. Maybe Dean, maybe the human if his hand got sliced to ribbons by Dean's silver knife.   
  
Dean returned his hand to the thread to anchor himself, his boots pinching the thread for stability. He'd given up on any hope of progress while under such scrutiny. "Unless I've got a set of wings I never noticed, wrong friggin' guess, Godzilla!" he snapped in annoyance.


	2. Chapter 2

Jacob raised his eyebrows. It was the lack of wings that stood out to him the  _most_  about these two, leather jackets and motel environment aside. He didn’t move his hands away at all, despite the spitfire attitude. The little guy could still fall, and now that Jacob was involved he wasn’t going to let that happen.  
  
“Godzilla?” he echoed. He almost wanted to ask how the hell the little guy-- Dean, it sounded like-- even  _knew_  about Godzilla. He stopped himself to check on the other one instead.  
  
“Listen, guys, I’m sorry for freaking you out,” he said, glancing between the guy safely on the table and the one hanging precariously over what would be a dangerous drop. If not for Jacob’s hand, Dean was a comparative several stories up. He didn’t have wings to catch him out of free fall like Bowman did. “But I get it. I kinda know how big I probably look, but I swear, you’re safe.”  
  
He cupped his hands under Dean again and fixed him with a hopeful look. “Dean, right? Want a lift?”  
  
Dean glared, drawing his legs further up from Jacob's hands. " _No,_ " he flatly refused, unrelenting in his grip on the silver knife as he dangled in place. "I can get my own damn self on to a  _table._ "  
  
Up above, Sam peered off the edge, continuing to hold the hook in place. Dean glanced up at him, relieved to see that Sam had not been messed with. The distance between them couldn't have been more than a foot and a half.  _No big,_  Dean thought to himself.  _Done this a thousand times before._  
  
Before attempting to move, Dean jabbed the hand holding the knife at the human in the room. "Don't even  _think_  about grabbing me, gigantor."  
  
Jacob couldn’t say he was surprised. He worked to keep the bemused smirk off his face and left his hands below in spite of the insistence. Seeing someone the size of a sprite climbing so well was completely foreign, but that sass was familiar enough to put him right back in the forest where he’d met Bowman. He wouldn’t have given Jacob an inch, either.  
  
“Cross my heart,” he promised. He glanced up at the hook again to make sure it was secure in the other one’s hands. “Not gonna grab. I’ll just be a spotter.”  
  
Sam grinned back, appreciating the thought. Dean was not so appreciative, though he did give up on lashing out with his knife.  
  
Tucking the blade back into his jacket, Dean concentrated on the climb ahead of him. So long as he was dangling in the middle of the air, he was no use to anyone. Going down would put  _more_  distance between him and Sam, and would mean trying to get past those hands. Not to mention Sam trying to get past them after him. It made more sense to regroup, assess the situation from stable footing, and try and figure out what to do.  
  
"What's your name?" Sam called out curiously while Dean worked his way slowly up the thread, the occasional curse finding its way up to him.  
  
The difference between the two little guys was like night and day. “I’m Jacob,” was the rumbled reply, and now that Dean was making his way up, Jacob focused on the other instead. He had to assume he’d already climbed all the way up that thread, with nothing but his own strength and skill keeping him from plummeting back to the floor.  
  
“Sorry to startle you guys,” he added, keeping an eye on Dean’s progress. His hands moved with him, though he kept well out of range in case the knife glinted back into view. No need to risk anything while Dean was still hanging a dangerous distance over solid ground. “Wasn’t really expecting anyone else to be chillin’ in the room.”  
  
As Dean climbed, the string steadily twisted back and forth with his practiced movements. Jacob carefully let part of it trail over his fingers as he waited. “Dude, do you get everywhere like this?”  
  
"No, we really just... fly everywhere," Dean huffed out between yanks as he continued his ascent. "The ropes... are totally just wings in disguise."  
  
Sam had to roll his eyes at the amount of attitude Dean was throwing out over the earlier sprite comment. "No, your leather  _jacket_  is the disguise!" he called off the edge of the table.  
  
Dean paused long enough to glare, then pulled himself up the last few inches. Abandoning the hook, Sam held his hand over the edge of the table, reaching for Dean's.  
  
They were close enough that Sam was able to snag the back of Dean's collar instead of his arm. "H-hey!" Dean blurted as, string and all, he was yanked up in Sam's strong grip.  
  
"Get over yourself," Sam advised as he pulled Dean up like he weighed less than a kitten, putting him down.   
  
Dean nearly fell over from the strain in his legs from the extended climb, not used to just dangling in place like that for such long lengths of time. He ended up catching his balance on Sam, glaring even more at the necessity.   
  
Jacob’s hand flinched towards them, very nearly trying to help Dean catch his balance. Then, he drew it back again. He didn’t want to crowd the small pair, and he knew how easy that could be with just one of his hands. They didn’t stand any taller than most of his fingers.  
  
With the pair of them side by side now, he could make a better comparison. Dean was the leaner and shorter of the pair, but he seemed to make up for it in attitude. Even then, he was bulkier than any wood sprite Jacob had ever seen; compared to the wispy little folk of the forest, the two of them were stocky, if a bit pale and gaunt.  
  
“Gonna make it?” he asked Dean, a faint amusement lingering on his face. The little guy was snarky, and just like with Bowman, Jacob couldn’t resist needling that attitude.  
  
Even if he had to play it safer. He was still a stranger to them, and a ridiculously huge one at that. He settled with resting his hand at the edge of the table and remained kneeling. “Um. Sorry, dude, I didn’t catch your name?” he admitted, looking to Dean’s taller and far-less-riled companion.  
  
Dean drew himself up, brushing Sam off. "He's  _leaving,_  is who he is," he announced before Sam could say anything.  
  
As Dean turned on his heel to grab his hook from the table, Sam was left looking between the other two, torn. He'd normally follow Dean without a thought, but that felt  _wrong_  when so far Jacob had done nothing to deserve the anger.  
  
Grabbing the back of Dean's jacket, Sam hauled him around. "Will you just  _chill_ ” he hissed under his breath. Turning to look at Jacob, he had a much warmer smile for the teenager. "My name's Sam, and you've already met my older brother, Dean," he said, officially introducing them both.  
  
Jacob grinned. “Something like that,” he agreed. He had at least done better with his first ever interaction with Dean than he had with Bowman. As much as the little guy griped about him mistaking them for sprites, they had the sprites to thank. Without Bowman’s lessons in how  _not_  to be a terrifying giant, Jacob might have grabbed Dean right off his thread.  
  
“And … you don’t  _have_  to leave right away. I mean, I won’t  _stop_  you or anything, but I’m not gonna go telling anyone I saw you here.” He paused, then glanced around the room. He couldn’t see where they might have gotten in, but the furniture answered how they kept hidden at least. To them, it offered vast shadows to hide them from his view.  
  
“Not gonna lie, a motel room is the last place I expected to find spr- uh, not-sprites.” He offered Dean an apologetic half-shrug. “Sorry, dude, sprites are all I know about so far.”  
  
Dean scowled. "Well we're  _not_  sprites," he snapped back, shoving Sam's arm off. "And if you don't  _mind,_  talkin' to some  _giant_  wasn't in the plans today!"  
  
Sam didn't bother to grab Dean back again this time. He was too intrigued by what Jacob had said. Like he  _knew_  about sprites, and not just from books. Though the brothers had learned a lot about the people that lived in the motel during their years there, there was an information blackout on anything outside the walls of  _Trails West._    
  
"What do you mean?" Sam asked Jacob curiously. "Sprites are all you know? Have you seen others like us before?" He indicated his height with a hand.  
  
Jacob kept both brothers in his focus, but that wasn’t too difficult with how small they were. Crouching on the floor put him mostly at eye level with them. “I’ve seen people  _kinda_  like you before,” he admitted. His hand shifted at the edge of the table, holding up a fingertip to mimic Sam’s gesture and note their height.  
  
Then, unable to resist, that hand moved towards them so he could nudge at Dean’s duffel bag. As before, he drew his hand back before he could risk a cut. “There’s a few big differences, though.”  
  
Trying to bat Jacob's hand away, Dean was too slow to hit the offending finger. "Will you  _stop that?!_ " he said irritably, his anger finding no target as soon as Jacob's hand was out of reach.  
  
Sam threw Dean a  _look,_  trying to get him to focus on the conversation topic, instead of its source. "We've never heard of people living out of the motel..." he said hesitantly. "I mean, obviously there has to be  _others,_  but no one stays in contact. Where'd you find them?"  
  
“They’re in the middle of an old forest a few states up,” Jacob replied. An apologetic smile flashed across his face. “I doubt they’d be able to keep in touch much. They didn’t even know what humans  _were_  until I found them.”  
  
And a number of other differences. Darker skin, willowy frames, and wings among them. And yet, despite their looks, Jacob had found that they were just like any other people. Just trying to live their lives in the idyllic, peaceful forest they called home. “They  _do_  have wings. I don’t think they could climb a string like you just did.”  
  
"You're telling me that someone like  _you,_ " Dean gestured at Jacob's height, "made friends with a bunch'a forest fairies? Like I'd believe  _that._ "  
  
Sam gave Dean a flat look out of exasperation. "Can you chill already?" he asked pointedly. "Why would he lie to us?"  
  
"Oh, I don't know, Sam, maybe he wants to get us to drop our guard around him!" Dean exclaimed out of exasperation of his own. "I'm not about to buy some story about magical sprites from a guy who found us in his room!"  
  
Jacob, once again, was unsurprised. He was more prepared for skepticism than anything else, considering his story. It was strange to hear people that weren’t supposed to exist doubting the existence of  _other_  people that weren’t supposed to exist, but he didn’t comment on it. Instead he shrugged. “I don’t think I’d believe it either if I hadn’t seen them myself,” he admitted.  
  
Then, he smirked. “But man, if my buddy heard you calling him a forest  _fairy,_  he’d probably smack you himself. He gave me a lecture about that when I made the mistake.”  
  
Dean's expression didn't change. "Wings? Lives in the forest? Yea high? Sprite or fairy, whatever. Sounds like a fae to me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This AU is now known as **Brothers Grounded**!
> 
> To be continued in the future!


	3. Chapter 3

Sam was intrigued. "Did he say why he  _wasn't_  a fairy?" he asked, prodding Jacob gently for details instead of discarding what he was saying. There was an itch in Sam to know as much as he could, and even with their precarious situation on the table, he couldn't resist the bait.  
  
Jacob was just as eager to have the conversation as Sam was, albeit for different reasons. The more they talked to him, the longer they didn’t bolt away. He knew that if they disappeared on him, he probably wouldn’t find them again. Guys their size needed to be experts at going unnoticed, with most of the world outmatching them. He was glad he had so far managed to avoid scaring them off.  
  
“I’m not really sure how much I believed him at the time, but he said fairies are actually just these little lights,” he held his thumb and finger barely more than an inch apart. “Little bouncy lights, and really stupid. He doesn’t like to be put on the same level.”  
  
"Really?" Sam asked, intrigued. "We never heard of anything like that, and--"  
  
"Dad didn't say anything about  _sprites_  existing, either," Dean interrupted, suspicion of Jacob plain on his face.  
  
Sam shot him a look. "Dad wouldn't believe  _we_  existed," he countered under his breath.  
  
Before their lives at the motel, they had been (and still technically were), the sons of John Winchester, a hunter of the supernatural. Whether it be werewolves or vengeful spirits, the man knew his stuff. The brothers lived out of the backseat of the Impala, road tripping from one motel to the other. Occasionally even going so far as to stay with one of the friends of the family, such as Pastor Jim or Bobby Singer.  
  
None of that life had prepared them for the possibility of their curse. Not once had anyone ever mentioned tiny people in the walls, sprites, fairies or anything else that might exist in the realm of possibility that looked like them. Not until they were cursed, and now Jacob was telling them there were  _more_  people out in the world their size, different race or no.  
  
"He would if we could reach him," Dean snapped back.  
  
Jacob leaned back from the pair. They’d lost him with their hushed conversation, more effectively than any other strange thing about them. Tiny people he could believe. He’d seen a whole village of them before. One even made a point of landing on his head or shoulder to greet him when he showed up in the woods.  
  
But here Sam and Dean were, showing how little he actually knew about small folk. There were other kinds of sprites out there, and then there were these two. They weren’t sprites, but he didn’t feel right asking what they  _were._  
  
“Uh. Are you … not supposed to be here?” he asked cautiously. They stood on a table like it was nothing. They weren’t fazed at all by their surroundings in a motel room. It  _seemed_  like they were accustomed to it, but then Jacob knew next to nothing about them. A smile flickered across his face. “That mean I can’t call you motel sprites after all?”  
  
This comment brought both brothers’ attention back down on Jacob, and the glare was back in place on Dean's face. "We're  _not_  sprites!" he griped in complaint, sounding more resigned to the constant insistence on the title for them. "Just... people. It's not our fault everyone else is friggin' huge!"  
  
Sam shook his head in amusement. "We're  _not_  supposed to be here in the motel," Sam informed Jacob. "If you could just... not tell anyone about us, that'd be great."  
  
Jacob nodded. “Not going to,” he assured them. Remembering some of the last year, he was almost positive no one would believe him anyway.  
  
When the guy who shot him kept raving about tiny people in the woods, Jacob and his friends had all done their part to make sure everyone thought he was crazy. No one could know the truth about the sprites, and it was probably the same for whatever Sam and Dean were. They needed to keep hidden to be safe.  
  
He thought about asking what they meant about their dad. That, at least, he shared a small connection with them over. Deciding it would be too personal to ask so soon, he zeroed in on Dean’s insistence that everything was too  _big._  “Sprites or not, you’d get a kick out of the place where the sprites live,” he added, raising his eyebrows at Dean. “They’ve got a lot of stuff they made for their size. No fish hooks, though.” He glanced to the barbed fish hook still hanging out of Dean’s bag.  
  
Dean protectively put his hand covering the hook, wary of any unexpected nudges coming from Jacob's way. "Well some people don't have wings to get themselves around," he said snippily. "We make do."  
  
Sam was enchanted at the thought of an entire village of people out there at their size. "They live out in the open?" he asked Jacob. "Like, no hiding?"  
  
“No hiding,” Jacob confirmed. Then, with a sheepish smile, “Maybe some hiding, at first, when I showed up,” he admitted. When he first arrived in the forest, the sprites hadn’t seen a human for generations. No one among them even remembered that giants existed. “But they thrive on sunlight, so they like to be outside all the time.”  
  
"Outside?" Sam was awed at the idea, after so much of their lives had been spent indoors.  
  
In the last decade, the most they'd ventured out was an alcove Dean had discovered up on the motel's roof. Up there, they could watch the parking lot. Patiently, day by day, trying to spot the Impala their father drove returning. They had never seen it return, but that never stopped them from returning. Sam didn't know if Dean held out hope any longer to see their family return, but he knew he would never give up. There was always hope, so long as they both lived.  
  
"No, uh-uh," Dean said, cutting off Sam's line of thought before it went any further. "We're already behind schedule today, we don't have any supplies, and we are  _not_ going to spend the entire night talking about  _fantasy sprites_."  
  
Jacob paused, staring at the pair of them and parsing out what Dean meant. Other than the leather, which was too thin to have been cut from any normal hide he'd ever seen, their appearances were like the old borrower books, with things put together out of what they could find. Their boots might look like Jacob's own from farther away, but the treads weren't as even. There was no chance their little jackets or jeans were factory-made.  
  
And they used thread and a hook like any old grappling hook. Whatever they had, they had to find it first. They couldn't exactly walk into a store for what they needed.  
  
His gaze drifted past them to his bag of food. He'd forgotten all about it in the excitement, but now he almost jolted with a realization. They wouldn't come into his room for no reason. “Oh, shit, did you, uh, want some?” He gestured at the bag, and then rubbed the back of his neck. “It's a burger, but there's some fries, if you don't eat meat…”  
  
"We're not here for your charity, Godzilla," Dean fumed, smarting over the way they'd been found out. Normally they would have gotten away from the room with the food, the human none the wiser.  
  
"We  _could_  use some, if you don't mind..." Sam hedged, falling firmly on the side of the fence where he was beginning to warm up to the soft-spoken teenager. "Pickings are slim in the motel today, otherwise we never would have come here."  
  
Jacob’s brow pinched, but he tried not to let his concern show on his face any more than that. It was clearly a point of pride, judging by the way Dean bristled at the very offer. He had such a familiar set in his posture that he might as well be channeling Bowman as far as Jacob was concerned. Dealing with a lot of pride in a tiny body was something Jacob had some experience with.  
  
“Sure, yeah,” he agreed with Sam. “It was a good shot for some good old diner food.” He offered a grin but refrained from standing up yet. “I don’t mind sharing. That’s all it’d be, anyway, just sharing, no charity. The sprites like to try the food I bring, too, so long as there’s no meat in it.”  
  
This got Dean to wrinkle his nose. "They don't know what they're missing," he complained. "Meat's the best part."  
  
Sam continued to ignore Dean, focused on Jacob. More and more he felt like they might be able to befriend the teenager, for all his size. "It seemed worth the risk, considering most people put leftovers straight in the fridge and we never see it again."  
  
Jacob glanced over at the mini-fridge. It looked big enough to hold the takeout container, but only barely. He doubted he’d be making much use of it. “Nah, this stuff isn’t going in the fridge yet. I just got it.”  
  
He lowered his hands from the table, bracing them on his lap. “I can open it up and then you can decide if you still want some. That sound okay? What’s the harm in looking?”  
  
This time, even Dean didn't have a quick comeback for Jacob. Neither could hide the longing glance they sent the way of the takeout container, full of food that was  _fresh,_  and might even still be warm.  
  
"I think that sounds okay," Sam said, now speaking for both of them.  
  
Jacob didn’t hold back a grin for his own progress. Even after scaring them and prompting Dean to swing a little knife at him, he hadn’t sent them running. Even if running for them would mean climbing down from the table.  
  
He also couldn’t miss the hopeful glance at the food container. It was different from the curious looks the sprites always had for the food he brought, but either way the promise of a giant portion of food drew their attention like a magnet. Even Dean, as bristly as they come, couldn’t hide that.  
  
Jacob leaned back from the table again and pushed himself up. His shoulder complained and he winced only briefly until he could straighten out, and then hastily took one of the chairs at the table. The less looming, the better, and these two couldn’t fly up to stay at eye level with him.  _Okay, that’s a little odd._  
  
He pulled the takeout towards himself a bit to give himself room to tug the bag right out from underneath the styrofoam, setting it and the plastic silverware set aside. The box still radiated heat from the food within, and when he fiddled with the tab to free the lid, a tiny wisp of steam escaped. Following the steam was the unhindered aroma of the food inside.  
  
“I won’t lie,” he said with a smirk, leaning on an elbow and leaving the food alone. “I’ve never brought anything like this to the sprites. I don’t think they’d know what to do about french fries.”  
  
" 'Do' with them?" Dean echoed in confusion. "You  _eat_  them!"  
  
The warm steam that came from the container was inviting, but the brothers held back, some thread of instinct keeping them from rushing the food. That, and the image of how upset their adopted father would be to hear that they'd accepted food from a human so willingly.  
  
"You sure you don't mind?" Sam asked, temptation nudging at him and urging him to just  _go for it_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's fitting to post the next chapter of this now, when I'm smushed on overtime at work and trying to bring myself to keep up the writing spirit. 
> 
> **Next:** COMING SOON

**Author's Note:**

> This is a bit of fun between @pl1 and myself! I was having a hard time writing some of our in-progress works while worrying about my car and the upcoming surgery, so we started a new off-the-wall AU with the tiny Winchesters and the canon Jacob who already had his run-in with the Wellwood sprites!
> 
> We haven't named the AU just yet, anyone have any ideas?
> 
> More will post soon, but I'm not sure quite when! I haven't had as much time for writing recently, so I have to reorganize myself a bit.
> 
> Find the tumblr posts [here](http://brothersapart.tumblr.com/tagged/motel-sprites)!
> 
> [Feel free to drop us some questions about the new AU!](http://brothersapart.tumblr.com/ask)


End file.
